Deviating
by DownThatLayne
Summary: HIATUS. A story about a proper girl and a rebellious boy and how they help each other escape the conformity of life. Harsh themes. Sensitive material. AH. Mature.
1. Typical

**Giving a full length story another go...yikes. No beta. No schedule. Just kind of going with the flow as it starts off. Chappies will get longer probably.  
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**SM owns Twilight, but I own this plot.**

**Enjoy.  
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"Did you even bother brushing your hair this morning, Isabella?" My mother's makeup caked eyes rake over my form. "And is that blouse ironed?"

"Uhm, yes mother, I brushed it; it's just wavy. And I just pulled it off the hanger."

"You didn't even bother straightening your hair? Oh, Isabella." She sighs heavily and rests her forehand in her hand, as if my untidy hair has caused her great stress. "I have wrinkles due to you."

I internally roll my eyes. "Okay, well, I'm running late…" I trail off as I head for the door, peeling my banana as I go.

"You had a banana already when you first woke." I could hear the disapproval dripping in her voice.

"I'm hungry. Besides, I need potassium – I had another Charlie Horse last night."

"But so much sugar. Don't think I haven't noticed the way your skirt looks on your hips."

I ignored the jab, knowing it was untrue and was only made for her to feel better. "Right, well, I'm running late…" I repeat, but this time I don't stop on my way out the door.

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"Can you believe Jessica was being such a whore at that party? She was practically humping my boyfriend!" Lauren's nasally voice is always a charm first thing in the morning. "And that _top_, my God. Her boobs were everywhere!"

"You know how she gets when she's drunk. You should probably talk to her about this. You've been friends since kindergarten." I try reasoning, but I've never seen her so pissed off before.

"And I always make excuses for her, don't I? Yeah, well, not this time. Friendship over."

She's said this multiple times, and it has yet to actually happen.

A huddled girl comes in our direction – books pressed to chest, glasses pushed up nose, hair frizzed behind ears. "Hey, Ange," I call to her with a wave and a smile.

"Hey, Bella," she replies briefly, but genuinely and hurries along.

"Why do you talk to that nerd?"

I frown. _God, why are girls so mean?_ "She happens to be really nice, Lauren."

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to give a, no doubt, snarky reply, when a booming voice interrupts her.

"Muffin!" Arms encircle my waist from behind and squeeze the breath from me.

"Hey, Mike," I say once I'm free of his hold.

"Babe," he sighs. People seem to always be exasperated with me. "I told you to call me Pumpkin." I smile with tight lips. _No chance in hell._

"Can we talk?" I ask and I see his smile falter just slightly.

"Can we wait till after school? I need to go see Coach Clapp now."

"Uh, yeah that's okay." But it's not; I'm frustrated I have to go yet another school day being _Pumpkin's _girlfriend. Then I realize something. "Didn't you go talk to him yesterday?"

"He needs to see me again," his reply has a defensive edge to it, and I know then he's lying. _Third day in a row he's avoiding us talking; he must know. _

"You guys are just so cute!" Lauren squeals, having always been Team Mike. I shoot her glare as Mike shoots me a smirk.

"I'll see ya later, Muffin." He pecks my lips before I have a chance to turn my cheek.

"Lauren," I hiss when he steps out of earshot.

"What? I think you're making a mistake. You have the school's hot quarterback calling you Muffin. Can I have first dibs on your sloppy seconds?"

"Ugh, Lauren, you're disgusting."

"Well, why'd you agree to date him when you didn't even like him to begin with?" I don't miss the poorly disguised jealously in her tone.

_Because it made my mother happy…for a little while, at least._

"I don't know." Now I'm the one sighing. "Maybe I thought my feelings would change. I don't know. He's the quarterback, I'm the head cheerleader – I've seen the movies; our roles belong together."

"But…"

"But he's annoying and clingy and belittles me and doesn't ever listen to my opinion."

"So a typical guy," Lauren decides.

As we sit in our seats, I can't find it in me to disagree.

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School drags on as usual. Our daily dress code check goes swimmingly like normal. _No rolling skirts, boys where are your belts, no jewelry, closed toed shoes always, why do you think we have uniforms? Conform conform conform._

There's nothing I hate more than our uniforms. They represent everything I stand against. _Conformity, submission, resignation, docility. _It's ironic, really. I _am _all those things. Trapped in this world of fake nails, fake friends, and for what? Just to fit _in_, just to be _accepted_.

One day, though. _One day,_ I promise myself. _One day I'll become who I am._

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**That's it for now. Tell me what you think and such.**

**Meow.**  
**~Kay**


	2. Kinderd

**Wow, so I'm actually posting a second chapter. My personal best record...sad, I know. **

**Still no beta. Still no schedule (even though it may seem like it...). And, what I am I forgetting? Oh yes...  
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**SM still owns. But I own dis here plot. **

**Read on!  
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I breathe in deeply through my nose, recognizing the scent of rain. It's foreseeable presence only increases my frustration. The grip on my phone becomes painful as I urge it to vibrate and to sing and to just signal some type of response from my two calls and three texts.

_I'm going to leave if you don't meet me soon, Mike. _I send another, proud I haven't even expressed my anger, but knowing I will soon break.

The fat drop of wet sliding down my forehead has me climbing into my car and driving away from the school. At a red light, I type. _Tomorrow. Before school. _I grip my wheel with more force than necessary. When my light turns green, I gun it, but a motorcycle running his red has me slamming my brakes, skidding in the wet.

"_Idiot." _I curse the rider and his stupidity, and I curse this rain and Mike and my now panicked heart.

When I finally arrive home, I'm in rare form. Opposed to my usual composure, I'm shaky with anger and leftover adrenaline from my near run-in. I peel off my slightly wet clothes and dress in my favorite sweatshirt and sweatpants. Nothing makes me feel better about my body than oversized clothing.

Ignoring the seemingly omnipresent rumble in my stomach, I sit in my nook and do my homework as I listen to the rain splattering against the window. After an hour, I give up hope of concentrating and compulsively check my phone to find a message unread.

_You don't want to do this, Bella. _I roll my eyes. Of course, he has the balls to talk over text but not to my face.

_I do. We'll talk tomorrow._

I'm shocked to realize two hours has passed during my attempt at homework, and I scramble to change into appropriate clothes and to find my purse and keys, relieved to see the rain has stopped as I fly out the door. When I pull up to the parent pickup to see there's still a good number of elementary kids waiting, I exhale.

Bree hops in my car after throwing her backpack in the back seat. "Seems like a heavy load for a first grader."

"Tell me about it," she sighs oh-so-dramatically with an eye roll. I snort.

"How was your day, kiddo?"

"Peachy!" she chirps.

I laugh. "Do you even know what that means?"

"No, but I hear you and Mom say it all the time."

"It's usually sarcastic."

"Sar-_what?" _She scrunches her nose in confusion.

"Nevermind. How was your day, in your own words, please ma'am."

"It was okay. I got an A plus plus on my spelling test, but Jordan said my ponytail looked stupid."

I frown. She complains of this Jordan kid almost every day. "And what'd you say back, Bree?"

"Well," she huffs. "I told him he'd know. Cause _he _was stupid."

I laugh, not being able to help myself. "That's not very nice," I admonish halfheartedly with a smile, probably confusing her.

"Oooo, a rainbow!"

Ah, the attention span of seven year olds.

"Can we go out to lunch, Belly?"

"Sorry, babes, I don't have any cash on me."

"But you have one of those card thingys," she argues.

"Yes, but then Mom will know I went to lunch."

"You know, I eat lunch at school, and I'm _still _hungry. I don't know why Mom won't let you eat lunch."

"For Aunt Julie's wedding at Christmastime, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you've gots to fit in the pretty blue dress."

"Have to, yes," I correct subtly. She's silent for a moment and as always, I wonder what may be going on in her head. Just how much she sees. How much she understands.

"The park, then," she decides with a nod. I waver, but when I catch a glimpse at her missing front teeth in her smile, I quickly relent.

"The park, then," I repeat and signal my blinker.

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There isn't much of a playground at the park we sometimes frequent – just a swing set, monkey bars, and a teeter-tooter – but the open field of wildflowers and the manmade lake always draw us back.

"Let's swing," Bree suggests, tugging at my hand. I wince slightly at the sting.

The world is different when moving in a blur. As I go up, all I see is the blue expanse of sky. Nowhere to go but up. Only vastness and openness. I breathe in every time I'm up. I exhale on my journey back to the Earth, where the ground rushes at me so fast I consider putting my feet under me to slow my momentum. But just as quickly, there is blur. And there is sky. I see the sand beneath me and the sky above me so clearly while everything in between is simply a haze in my periphery.

Dizzy, I stop myself gradually and take a minute to observe. The park is mostly deserted. Besides us, there is only an elderly couple sitting on a bench, watching the sun sparkle off the surface of the water.

But beyond the lake, the scene changes. It's circumference is large enough to feel in a different world than the neighborhood on the other side. I can make out a group of boys playing basketball on a worn court, without a net to shoot through the rusted rim.

I stiffen reflexively at their presence, not being able to help myself with the sight of their head rags and baggy pants. But then, their ball flies into the lake. The game ceases and what looks like a tense argument follows. Suddenly, a group of four seizes a boy and throws him into the water. I panic for only the second it takes him to reemerge, and even I can make out the smile on his face.

I feel a pang in my chest. _Jealously_, I identify it. As I watch his friends laugh so carefree and lighthearted, I envy their freedom in a way I didn't know I could. With a power I didn't know was being held over me.

" – in the sun?"

I blink. "Did you say something, babes?"

"I asked if you wanted to lay out in the sun." The idea of it sounded so nice I almost agreed, but the suffocating and unnerving feeling the atmosphere now held had me fleeing.

"We should get home, start your homework, start dinner. No time to lie in the sun." I correct her faintly out of habit.

"But – " she starts, the whine clear in her pitch.

"Do not start an argument with me, Bree," I hiss. Immediately regretting my harsh tone, I soften it. "I've had a long day and just want to go home, okay?" I see her eyes narrowing skeptically and again find myself wondering what she assumes and what she knows.

"If you say so…," she agrees, but something in her voice is off, apprehensive.

We clasp hands as we make our way to my car, swinging them gently, in time with our steps. "So did I tell you I'm breaking up with Mike tomorrow?" I ask conversationally.

She looks up at me with that toothless smile, and my heart expands a little. "Good. I never liked him."

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**I told ya chappies would get longer. Thanks for reading, I'd love a review to know what you're thinking.  
Lots of little hints to major future stuff in this one! And technically past stuff too. Tell me if you think you caught something(: Until next time...whenever that may be.  
**

**Meow.  
~Kay**


	3. Gamblers

**A/N: Obviously, it's been awhile, but that's mainly due to my computer crashing, and me graduating, woo! :D**

**I thought we'd finally meet Edward this chappie, but some thumb wrestlers got in the way...but I promise next time for sure!  
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**NOT BETA'D  
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**SM owns Twilight. I own dis here plot.  
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**Go forth and read.  
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"Sooo." He clears his throat and pushes his sunny hair out of his pale eyes. "You wanted to talk?" He looks anywhere but at me. I shuffle my feet and shift my focus to a freckle on his nose.

"Don't – " I cut myself off before my voice breaks. I don't want to seem weak, wavering. I want to seem strong, confident in my decision, _my_ choice. "Don't play stupid with me, Michael," I say with little aggression, but a firmness that makes me swell with self-pride.

When he rolls his eyes, I can see the water start to pool in them. _This may be harder than I thought. _"You know we aren't right for each other. It's not fair for me to string you along…."

"Oh, so _that's _what you've been doing?" he bites, baring his teeth, now looking me in the eyes. Fury, pain, and _embarrassment, _color his expression. "_Stringing me along. _God, what _bullshit." _I blink at his use of an explicative, surprised. "I _know _you agreed to go with me for your _poor, ailing mother_. I thought you'd at least start to like me. I'm not dumb, contrary to popular belief, Bella. You weren't stringing me along for shit."

"Mike – "

"We make a beautiful couple, you know that? People _envy _us. I'm the quarterback, you're head cheerleader – it's out of a goddamned movie! You're ruining this. Together we rule this school, we can – "

"That's not what I want!" I shout with so much passion, I can feel it vibrate through my body, my soul, down to my fingertips and toes. He staggers back a bit, stunned by my sudden fervent outburst. I've always been so subdued around him, I now realize. "And-and you would know that if you actually took the chance to know me!_ Really _know me!" I'm yelling, and I don't know why. He's flinching, but it's bubbling up so fast and greatly, I can't stop it. "No one in this school even cares about what I think about things. _Important things! _Like the fact that I'm liberal!" His eyes widen at my confession.

"And that I _hate _cheering, and no, I won't be joining a sorority, and that I'm afraid to stand up to my own mother and tell her she's ruining not only her life, but her families." I stop to take a breath. "And I don't know why I'm telling you any of this," I say just slightly quieter. I reach up to grab at my hair, pulling it and reveling in the burn of my scalp. "But I'm breaking up with you, Mike."

He shakes his head. "I can't let you ruin your life. You _need _me. I can turn you around." I feel a stab in my gut at his words, and tears finally prick at my eyes. He reaches for my arm, but I jerk away.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I whisper harshly, not able to say the words louder. "I don't need _turning around. _Actually, you're right. I'll be turning in a different direction right now. Bye, Mike." I turn to walk away, hearing him call my name, and not looking back.

My pounding head and aching heart and fading spirit protest school, and I entertain the idea of skipping. _Just this once_. I look back at my car longingly. The problem is, _I'm just not that kid. _I don't even know how to _do _that. How will I pull it off? Won't the school know? Won't my mom?

As much as being a rebel sounds appealing, I'm not one. I can't even pretend to be one.

I really try not to sigh on my way into the school, really I do. But when I enter the crowded halls, I can't help myself. Students are everywhere; the B hall is where the majority of the lockers are, and therefore, the majority of the student population. I have to push past a crowd of thumb wrestlers. _Thumb wrestling, really? That hasn't been cool since middle school. _But it's rather curious how their countenance shifts from annoyed at my interruption, then to bashful when they see my face.

"Sorry if we're in your way, Isabella," a blushing boy on the skirts of the crowd speaks.

"It's okay, Ben." I smile when I see his eyes widen. He probably assumed I didn't know his name. Then, I try something I would've never thought to do before. I transfer my weight so I'm facing them, and I see some boys fidget. "Who's winning?" I try to sound honestly interested.

For a moment, no one answers. "Uh." A boy named Eric clears his throat. "Tyler was. I was rooting for him." It is then that I notice a wad of cash sticking out of Eric's pocket. I raise my brows, but lower my voice.

"Are you boys gambling?" They all look toward each other, anxiety evident. "You know there's a no tolerance policy…"

"Uhm, Isabella, it's just that – " Ben starts, but I silence him with my hand, almost blushing when I realize how rude that is and how much power it conveys.

"Call me Bella. And count me in." I grab some bills from my wallet, not really knowing who to hand them to. Ben takes them hesitantly, as if they might bite. "I think it's cool you don't follow the rules. I mean, this place is ridiculously strict, right?"

_Cricket. Cricket. Cricket._

"Uh yeah…" Tyler finally says.

"Were you hit over the head with a spirit stick or something, Cheerleader?" a boy near the back of the huddle questions. I'm surprised to find that a name _doesn't _come to mind.

"Excuse me?" I ask, offended.

"Did you fall out of a twirl or something? Someone not catch you?" The boy steps forward with each question. I recognize him. He's fairly new here and hardly fits in. I heard a rumor he's here solely on scholarship money; quite the scandal, really. I also heard a rumor he lives on the _other _side of the lake.

"What are you going on about?"

"I see right through your little fake mask. Trying to be a little do-gooder and get us in trouble, huh? Earn some sort of citizenship award? So you can smile when you accept it, wave like a beauty queen? World peace and all that shit?"

My lips form a tight line, and my face reddens. I'm so angry and so offended, I don't even have a word to say.

"Jake, stand down," Ben whispers, but I hear him.

"Who do you think you are, Jake?" I ask, jabbing my finger at his chest.

He flicks it off. "I know who I am. Why don't you ask yourself the same question, Princess." He stalks off after his parting words, leaving me gaping.

_What a frustrating, pig-headed, close-minded fool! Oh, I just want to slap him! Ask myself that question? What's _that _supposed to mean?_

"What a-a-a butthole!" I cry, wishing for once I'd curse, but I was raised as a lady. Ben laughs, but some of the others don't look too convinced.

"Don't turn us in, okay? I don't want to get kicked out. My mother would kill me," Eric says, losing some of his reserve.

"I wasn't planning on it." I tell them all honestly, moving some hair behind me ear. "I just wanted to try breaking the rules. See how it felt, ya know?"

Ben and Eric nod, but Tyler snots. "Yeah well, try again when the world stops spinning for you." He brushes past me and the other boys soon follow, leaving me with just Ben.

"I think that was cool of you for trying." Ben rubs the back of his neck, his ears tinted pink. "Angela says you're actually nice, under all that exterior."

I debate whether or not that's supposed to be a compliment. "Uhm thanks. I think." The warning bell rings, thankfully saving me from the awkward conversation. "Bye, Ben."

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"Where the hell have you been?" Lauren tugs my on my wrist, yanking me into my seat.

"Ow." I rub away the sting. "Would you mind?" I say with venom that is usually not present at school, or any public setting for that matter. She raises her brow, waiting. "I was talking to Mike." It's half true.

"So…it's done?" she whispers. Well, attempts to whisper. Lauren-whispers are like my normal speaking voice.

"Uh, yeah."

"So he's….available?" She wiggles her brows suggestively and smirks. I frown.

"As of like 10 minutes ago. You know, Lauren, a good friend wouldn't be boning my ex-boyfriend less than 24 hours after my break up." She rolls her eyes and turns around to the front of the classroom. _How silly of me to forget. You aren't a good friend. _

"Jeez," she mutters, surprisingly quietly. "Someone's on their period." I'm not, but I'll let her believe what she wants to. _I can't believe I have to last a whole freaking day in this school with people I'm beginning to loathe._

But suddenly, and idea springs into my head, and I smile to myself. I may not be a rebel, but I am a very, very good liar.

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**A/N: Just in case anyone needs any reassuring, THERE WILL BE NO BELLA/JACOB ROMANCE. Puke in my mouth, much? I just needed a connection of sorts(:**

**A lil cliffie in this one. That probably won't happen often, I'm really not that clever. I'll be quicker next time! Summer is upon us. Hallelujah, right?**

**Meow.  
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**~Kay  
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